


Dinner at Barba's Place

by georgiamagnolia



Series: The Plot Bunnies of Barba and Benson [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: Rafael and Olivia try to have a non-work related dinner, but will they make it to dessert?
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Series: The Plot Bunnies of Barba and Benson [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945330
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Dinner at Barba's Place

Rafael spent the majority of the drive to his own apartment trying not to think about how Olivia’s half zipped sweatshirt framed her breasts perfectly. The scoop of the neck of the tank top wasn’t helping at all. He was glad she was busy driving and watching for bad guys and didn’t notice what he was sure was a tell-tale flush on his skin, he could feel the heat of it on his neck and ears. He determinedly thought about his current caseload in order to stop his thoughts wandering. It helped that she drove with concentration and quiet. Too soon they pulled into a parking spot near his building and he was again looking at her in all her relaxed and casually dressed glory. He felt, for the first time in too long, overdressed and overheated. Rafael grabbed her overnight bag out of the backseat before she could protest and led the way into his building, giving a quick wave to the doorman. 

Olivia followed Rafael to the elevator and was surprised how fast it opened. They were alone in the elevator car and she took a quick look through her lashes at him, he was leaning against the back of the car and looking down at the keys in his hand, the look on his face somewhat pensive. Perhaps he was regretting his impulsive invitation. She opened her mouth to offer to go when he started talking without looking up.

“Thank you, Olivia. I have been going a little stir crazy and facing another weekend of isolation…” his voice trailed off. She put her hand on his arm, small comfort but all she could offer.

“I understand, I do. Sometimes the waiting for a thing to never happen is worse than it happening. Our imaginations can be enemy territory at times like this.”

He looked up at her from under his brow and could see her sincerity, and he smiled. She really did get it, he knew.

The elevator dinged as it opened and Olivia looked out before letting Rafael exit, staying by his side. At his door he unlocked it and ushered her in saying, “Welcome to the foxhole.”

Oliva laughed, “As siege conditions go, this is pretty swank.” She had visited his apartment before when cases needed reviewed or warrants were needed after office hours, but she hadn’t stayed long. Usually if they were planning long hours of work at home they met at her place so she could let her nanny Lucy go home at a decent hour. Olivia sometimes thought that the appeal of her place might also be her small son, Rafael seemed to enjoy the attention Noah lavished on him. Rafael often got conned into reading bedtime stories, though to be honest Rafael never needed to be asked twice to read a story or three to Noah. They had a mutual admiration society going between them.

“Spare room is this way,” Rafael said to her after he stashed his briefcase by the door and hung his overcoat. He walked past the open living and kitchen area and down a short hall. He opened the door and turned on the overhead light, allowing her to enter and handed her the overnight bag to put on the bed. “The guest bath is next door. My room has an en suite so you have this all to yourself.” He opened that door too, turning on the light. He opened a half sized closet, “Clean towels and everything here, in case you want a shower in the morning.” He closed the closet and turned off the lights, leaving the door open for her. 

He turned back toward the kitchen, allowing Olivia to follow or not as she chose. After dropping her bag and purse, she flicked off the light and found Rafael in the kitchen where he was sitting out glasses, wine for her and a rocks glass for himself.

“I’m fresh out of Cabernet, will a Merlot do?” he asked without turning.

“Of course, thank you.” She watched him move around the kitchen, busying himself with the bottles and the glasses, finally setting a perfect glass of wine in front of her and raising his own two fingers of scotch in a silent toast. She grinned and tinked her glass on his. They sipped and there was a knock on the door. He smiled and she raised a brow at him.

“Are you expecting more company?” she reached behind herself and drew her service weapon, holding it down near her thigh, pointed at the floor. 

Rafael’s eyes got wide, “Yes. No, not.” He took a deep breath. “Dammit, Liv. Dinner.”

She would have laughed at his fluster if it weren’t for the fact that there were threats of bodily harm or death hanging over his head. She nodded toward the door, following him as he led the way.

Rafael looked out the peephole and then called out, “Hang on Tonio, I’m getting the door.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Olivia wasn’t going to alarm anyone else with firepower. She slipped the gun out of sight. Rafael opened the door, reaching in his pocket as he did. He exchanged pleasantries with the young man on the other side, handed him a tip and took possession of the bags he handed over. 

Olivia disappeared her weapon and took one of the bags so her host could relock the door and headed for the kitchen, wondering what was in the bags, they didn’t seem to be from a take-out place.

Rafael joined her in the kitchen, sitting his bag next to hers on the island counter that separated the living area from the kitchen and dining area. He took another drink from his glass and looked at her over it. He swallowed the scotch and said, “I didn’t invite you here for bodyguard duty, you know.”

Olivia had the grace to look a little abashed but then her eyes turned defiant. “I didn’t mean to alarm you; I was just surprised is all.” She picked up her own glass and took a sip. “I promise not to draw down on you for the rest of the weekend.”

Rafael grinned, “If that’s all it takes for a weekend of your time then by all means, go armed all you like, Detective.” Before Olivia could formulate an appropriate response Rafael continued, “None of this will spoil while I pry myself out of the tin can, so make yourself at home. The tv remote is on the coffee table, or the stereo is self-explanatory, CDs or vinyl are next to it. Knock yourself out.” With that he turned and disappeared down the hall and she heard the door softly shut in the quiet of the apartment.

Rafael leaned on the closed bedroom door for a moment, eyes closed. There was something seriously wrong with him, he was certain, for finding Olivia unbearably attractive with a gun in her hand. That it was in his own defense he was pretty sure should not have been even hotter. It made him feel oddly cared for and yet not coddled. She never in the ensuing ten minutes made him feel less than or emasculated. He wondered if she knew what a damn lioness she seemed when she went into protective mode. Unbidden, the sensory memory of her hand on his head when she folded him into the car came back to him. Was it his imagination that her hand had gone from businesslike on top of his head pushing him into the seat and then softer as she stroked her hand over the back of his head, it had felt like a caress on his neck before she had pulled away and slammed the door. Was he so touch starved lately that he was now imagining things where there couldn’t possibly be anything? He shook his head to clear it of the memory of the fire in her eyes. Dear god, he might need to have a cold shower before dinner, and after as well, dammit.

He pulled his tie from his pocket and laid it flat on the dresser, then proceeded to strip out of his suit and vest, laying the suspenders with the tie. He bundled his clothes into the laundry, eyeing the pile of suits he needed to get to the dry cleaner. He had so far been fine with avoiding going out, having groceries and take-out delivered, but he refused to change dry cleaners. This was going to be an issue soon as he was eventually going to run out of suits, there were only so many times he could cycle through them before they really did need cleaning. He decided that was a worry for tomorrow and headed for a shower, a mostly warm one where he made a concerted effort to not think of his houseguest in the other room.

Olivia resisted looking in the grocery bags on the island counter and did as Rafael had suggested, she went to look at the music. She decided that tv would be intrusive so concentrated on finding something to listen to among his collection. The stereo had a five CD changer in it and she turned it on to see what might already be loaded. There were CD cases stacked on top so she picked them up and flipped though them as the music started. It was an eclectic mix. On top was a CD by a young Russian songwriter who wrote his own guitar music but also covered modern songs in his own arrangements. Next were a couple of jazz mixes, one with a decided Cuban influence that didn’t surprise Olivia at all. Next was a Best of Broadway compilation that made her smile. Last was a CD of the London Philharmonic playing The Moldau by a composer named Smetana. She clicked though the CDs to listen to it and was captivated. 

Olivia retrieved her wine and came back to the couch to listen. According to the liner notes she learned that the music was composed to describe the journey of a river, she sat the CD case next to her wine on the coffee table and sat back to enjoy. The music was sometimes majestic and sometimes soft and trilling like running water, sometimes full and booming and sometimes quiet and haunting. She was by turns surprised and enchanted. She sipped her wine and wondered what she might be learning about her host.

When the classical music stopped, Olivia got up and returned her now empty glass to the kitchen island and went into the guest room where she took off her shoes, removed her weapon and holster and secured it in her purse, then returned to the kitchen where she could hear that the CD player had changed over to the guitar instrumentals. It was good, so she left it alone. 

She was contemplating starting on unbagging the groceries when Rafael emerged from the hall. He was wearing sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, his feet bare. His hair was damp and a little messy, as if he ran his hands through it after pulling on the sweatshirt. Olivia tried to ignore the fact that he looked a little bit adorable like that. Nearly as adorable as he had looked in nothing but suit pants and a tank earlier in the day. Dear god, she had to stop thinking about that. He was her co-worker, not her date, for the love of all that was holy. She covered for her sudden illicit thought by turning toward the wine on the counter, pouring more for herself and asking Rafael if he needed another scotch. If he noticed her fluster, he didn’t indicate it when he agreed another drink was in order.

Olivia was amazed at how much food was crammed into the grocery bags when Rafael started sitting things on the counter, sorting some into the fridge and leaving others out. 

“Are you feeding an army?” She joked.

“Nope, but this is for the weekend and some of next week. I ordered a little extra for tonight is all. I get deliveries on Friday and Tuesday, usually. I have been getting in touch with my inner Julia Child while on semi-lockdown and cooking more often.” He glanced up from his sorting to find her grinning at him adorably. “Don’t expect Joy of Cooking tonight, we’re just having steaks.” 

Olivia waved her wineglass over the counter, “No worries on my account. I was planning on leftover pizza and a hot bath, so this is already a step up.” She sipped and watched him sort. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“A good host never imposes on guests,” he gave her a mock-glare.

“Honestly, Barba, aren’t we a little past that?” There was that glint in her eye again, challenge and laughter both and he loved seeing it there. He relented and gave her half a grin, his own eyes softening with laughter unvoiced.

“You can make that lot there,” he waved at a pile of Romain and tomatoes next to the double sink, “into a salad if you like.” He opened a door off to the side and handed her a plain black apron, lifting its twin over his own head and tying the hanging tails behind himself. Oliva found herself staring, thinking of his suspenders hanging across his thighs earlier. Rafael opened a cupboard and lifted down a bowl for the salad and sat it on the counter. “There’s a colander over there,” he nodded toward a cupboard door on her other side, “and the knives and cutting board are obviously there,” he indicated the countertop where those items were sitting out, ready for use. He finally noticed she was holding the apron, unmoving. Rafael misinterpreted her stillness. “Ever had grease splatter your favourite shirt? Or washed dishes and ended up drenched when you dropped the bowls? Aprons are just good business. Chop chop, missy, if you are determined we are not host and guest.”

Olivia looked at the apron in her hands and back up, getting with the programme at last, wondering how to pass off her lapse, but she needn’t have worried as Rafael grinned again and went back to sorting things into the fridge and onto the counter and she was glad he turned his back while she put on the apron and gathered kitchen tools. If she stole quick looks at how nice he looked so relaxed, well, she hoped he was distracted and didn’t notice. How on earth did a pair of sweatpants look that good on the man? She wondered if he had the damn things tailored like his suits. She slipped off her sweatshirt and tied her own loaned apron on and got busy. The kitchen was roomy and well laid out so they could both work without tripping on each other.

The CD changer clicked over and the sounds of Cuban influenced Jazz filled the apartment. Olivia realized that the player was set to shuffle and she wondered how the eclectic mix in the player would mesh, but enjoyed it and found herself swaying in place as she washed and chopped the salad.

Rafael reached over her and stole a bite of tomato, then leaned on the sink next to her to eat it. “Just checking it’s not rotten,” he grinned at her. “You like Jazz?”

She nodded, “I like this anyway. Most music is good as long as it’s not too obnoxious. Fin even has some Rap I don’t hate. But this is very enjoyable.” 

“It could be argued that Jazz and Rap are both music of people who want to be heard,” Rafael said, going back to the stove and starting to prepare the steaks.

Their conversation ranged from emerging music trends to television they enjoyed as kids and on to several more topics and by the time dinner was ready they were laughing and relaxed the way they always seemed to be in the past. 

Rafael plated dinner and handed two smaller plates to Olivia, indicating she should bring them and the salad to the table. Rafael returned to the kitchen, refilled their drinks and brought the glasses and silverware to the table. Next he brought a selection of dressings for the salad and a loaf of bread he had been warming in the oven.

“This looks amazing, Rafael. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s simple, but hopefully tasty.”

Olivia tucked into the filet mignon with scallops and steamed asparagus, it was as good as it looked. She sprinkled her salad with some dressing and was pleased it was a nice balance to the steak.

Conversation continued to flow, as did laughter, which shouldn’t have surprised them. Separately they each wondered why they hadn’t done this earlier, made dinner together. Their shared meals always seemed to involve work and that was the difference tonight, neither talked shop by unspoken agreement.

They worked together to clear the table and clean up the kitchen and then Olivia handed back the apron and Rafael did his best not to show his quite visceral reaction to seeing her in her tank top without the sweatshirt she had abandoned earlier. He quickly turned and put the aprons back on the hook inside the kitchen closet door, taking his time to make sure he wasn’t going to betray how good she looked to him and how it affected him to see her in that tight tank top. When he finally turned back, she had replaced the sweatshirt, but left it unzipped. He swallowed hard and picked up his glass, following her into the living area where she curled into the corner of the couch, socked feet curled under her and wineglass nearby.

“I usually relax with a movie on Fridays if I don’t have work I brought home, ah, would you like to watch a movie?”

She smiled up at him, still standing next to the couch, “Sure, but if you have work, I can make myself scarce.”

“Nope, no work.” He sat on the couch, exchanged his drink for the remote and clicked on the television, opening the movie choices for them peruse. As they debated the merits of action versus fantasy Olivia’s phone rang.

She checked the caller ID and said, “It’s Noah’s sleepover,” and answered.

From her side of the conversation Rafael gleaned that all was well at the sleepover but that the mother of the birthday boy wanted to take all of the kids to the zoo in the afternoon. After ascertaining that there would be plenty of adult supervision and talking to Noah who quite exuberantly wanted to go see the ‘phunts and penguins, Olivia agreed to the extension of his fun. There were promises to be good and assurances that mom would only miss him a little bit and she got off the phone. 

“Whew, emergency averted I guess,” she laughed. “That is one brave mom, taking so many excitable kids to the zoo.”

Before he could comment, Rafael’s own phone rang and he groaned because it was not likely to be something as fun as a zoo trip. He got up and grabbed his phone from the kitchen island where he’d left it and answered. Sure enough, not elephants nor penguins calling him but his boss.

“Yeah, I understand, I can be there in about an hour, maybe less.” Raphael listened some more, glanced at Olivia and said, “I don’t need a driver,” Olivia looked a question at him but nodded that she was willing to help. “I’ll be on my way shortly. Yeah, see you there,” he shut down the phone and looked at Olivia with an apology in his eyes. “Feel like doing that bodyguard thing after all?”

“Sure, but after three glasses of wine I had better get a coffee first.”

“Yep, you and me both. This was so very much not how I wanted to spend a night off, sorry Liv.”

“Duty calls at all hours, not like I’m not used to it. I’ll make the coffee, you go get into your battle gear.”

“Ugh. You had to remind me?” Rafael went to the kitchen, got out the coffee grounds and left Olivia to deal with the coffeemaker.

She had the coffee started when she heard cursing from the bedroom. Olivia went down the hall and knocked on the door, “Can I help?”

“Please.” Rafael’s frustration was plain in his voice. 

Olivia opened the door to find Rafael dressed in dark jeans and a sleeved tee-shirt and his Kevlar vest half strapped. One of the Velcro straps had twisted and Rafael was too exasperated by it, and maybe the situation, to cope. Olivia walked in and unstrapped the Velcro, taking the vest entirely off. 

“Come with me, I’ll show you again in the mirror, sometimes the visual helps.” Once in the generous en suite bath she helped him into the vest and told him how to tighten the straps for the best chance at comfort. She told him which ones to loosen to take it off and had him practice putting it on again and supervised as he restrapped the Velcro into place. “See, just undo this and this,” her touch was light as she pressed the Velcro in demonstration, “and then you can get back in it quick, I promise.” 

“Maybe I could just hire you to dress me,” Rafael muttered under his breath.

Olivia laughed, “I’ll take payment in bubble baths, Counselor.”

Rafael looked at her wide eyed and then saw where her focus was, on the garden tub and stand alone shower in his bath, both large enough for parties. “It was like this when I got here, Detective.”

“That’s your story and you’re sticking to it?”

“I plead the fifth.”

Olivia laughed again and left the bath. Over her shoulder she said, “Coffee must be done, you get some and I will meet you in the kitchen.”

Olivia went into the guest room, changed into the jeans she had packed to wear the next day and put her sneakers back on. She strapped on the hidden waist holster and checked her firearm, loaded and safety on. She clipped her badge onto the chain for when she wore it around her neck and tucked it under her sweatshirt that she zipped nearly all the way up. She wasn’t sure what sort of mess had Rafael’s boss calling him in at nearly eight on a Friday night, but she suspected it might not be fun, so she prepared for what she could. She grabbed her purse and flicked the light off as she left for the kitchen.

Rafael had fixed two mugs of coffee as well as two insulated travel mugs for them to carry with them. When Olivia joined him he handed her a cup already prepared the way she liked. She smiled her thanks and took a sip.

“We can drink one now and more as we go, we should be legal again by the time we get to the squad room.” He took a long sip of his own coffee, leaning against the kitchen island. 

Olivia noticed he had covered the Kevlar with a dark blue polo shirt and a sport coat, as casual a look as she had ever seen him in for work. Rafael noticed her noticing.

“Dry cleaning needs done and I am not breaking out a clean suit for some late night bullshit of a plea deal.” His voice was unrepentant.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. It’s a good look.” She sipped her own coffee to avoid adding that every damn look was good on him apparently. “If you have been avoiding your dry cleaner I can help with that, if you like.” She looked at him over the brim of the mug, hoping he wouldn’t think her overstepping.

“Well,” he appeared to be thinking that over, “I am running out of suits and I don’t want to change services, it took me too long to find one that didn’t ruin my suits.”

“Great, let’s throw your stuff in the car and I will drop it off tomorrow, they have Saturday hours I am guessing?”

“They do, thanks. And I pay online, so all you need to do is get them there.”

“How are you going to pick them up then?”

“Oh, yes, well…”

“Hadn’t thought of that, I know. I can get them, how long does it take?”

“They’ll be ready on Tuesday afternoon.”

“Got that sorted,” she finished off her coffee and walked to the sink to rinse the mug. “Let’s get the rest of this night sorted so we can get back to fighting over movie choices, shall we?”

Rafael smiled behind his mug of coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the slow burn, it's been a few years since I wrote anything at all, also the bunnies are sketchy and case!fic keeps interfering.


End file.
